


Bulletproof

by tristinai



Series: Bad Decisions [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Deep Throating, Emotional Manipulation, Human AU, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Masochism, Self-Mutilation, Size Kink, Unresolved Emotional Tension, gangster au, gangster!Nines, implied abusive relationship, past Convin, past Kamski900, power bottom!Nines, reed900, rim jobs, shower head, soft top!Gavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 04:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristinai/pseuds/tristinai
Summary: While witnessing Nines ‘on the job’, Gavin gets jealous.





	Bulletproof

**Author's Note:**

> The concept was simple: Nines gets flirty, Gavin gets jealous, sex ensues. This was the initial idea when I jotted this down back in January. But in that time, both of these idiots have caught a severe case of the 'feels' so it came out a bit more complicated than that. Cue angsty confessions and another glimpse into Nines' mysterious past.
> 
> Thanks goes out to the amazing and always awesome [NixObscura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixObscura/pseuds/NixObscura) because even when I lose all faith in what I write, she encourages me to keep going. There are parts of this series that would otherwise collect dust on my disk drive. Thank you for all the wonderful feedback you have given me and I hope you have been thoroughly entertained by what my muses and I have put out ;) 
> 
> I would also love to extend thanks to [Same-Side](https://same-side.tumblr.com/) for being inspired enough to create artwork based on this part. It's absolutely gorgeous and so fitting, given the kind of relationship Gavin and Nines have. All of you can see it [here](https://same-side.tumblr.com/post/183912129314/he-said-i-could-have-it-bad-decisions-by). Thank you so much for sharing this! <3
> 
> As always, please read the tags before proceeding. Enjoy! <3

Laughter filters up to the loft, Gavin glowering as he leans against the wall, each passing second driving him further into the jealous rage that’s been percolating inside of him in the last hour. He told himself he wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t stand around like a fucking chump and peer in on whatever dealings Nines has with the Wall Street asshole who interrupted their night: every time the greasy fucker leans in to whisper intimately into Nines’ ear, it has Gavin ready to jump the railing and pummel the obnoxious prick with his fists. And yet, Gavin finds he is unable to look away from the enraging display playing before his eyes in the living space below.

 

“I have little choice in this matter,” Nines had told him an hour ago, as he shooed Gavin to the upper part of the ritzy loft. “Marcel is an old client. I am meant to entertain him the few days he’s in the city.”

 

Gavin had huffed out, “Asshole couldn’t wait a few fucking hours?”

 

“Gavin.”

 

Stern lived up to his adoptive surname when he gave the detective a nonplussed look. But it didn’t make Gavin any less bitter.

 

All day, the prick’s been messaging Nines and finally called to let the gangster know he wanted to drop by to discuss ‘business’. But it’s become very fucking clear that ‘business’ has been the last thing on the asshole’s mind. Gavin expected to have the whole day with Nines, who invited him to one of Kamski’s lofts for the evening, some place that looks barely lived in, despite being fully furnished. “Used simply for business,” Nines had said of the place.

 

A risky move, exposing a detective to the flat where Gavin has little doubt shady shit goes on all the time, but since being kicked off the case, Gavin’s feeling far less like throwing a bone to his ex-partner Connor and giving this place up. He was more pissed about Nines letting someone intrude on _their_ time than whatever the gangster gets up to here but now, seeing exactly _what_ that is, Gavin’s getting just as pissed about that too.

 

“Perhaps you can make use of the jacuzzi or amuse yourself with those mindless sitcoms you enjoy,” Nines had suggested, pressing a light kiss to Gavin’s temple and acting as if he didn’t see the scowl directed at him. “Do try and not make too much noise. Marcel prefers to discuss affairs in more intimate settings and would not be pleased to learn I am hiding a detective up here.”

 

And that’s what led to Gavin opting to spy on his lover instead of soaking in the warm bath in the next room. With the adjusted tinting of the glass walls that look over the living room, the detective can easily lurk out of sight and watch as Nines and Marcel laugh over tumblers of brandy, the smooth jazz and dim lighting providing the perfect setting that’s only making the banker grow bolder. Gavin’s noticed all the lingering touches, can see that every time the banker squeezes Nines’ shoulder or brushes their fingers together when they clink their tumblers, it makes the asshole’s gaze become more predatory. A wolf who’s cornered its prey. In truth, Gavin can’t blame him: Nines is hot as fuck and anyone with working eyes would want to mount that.

 

Nah, the worst part is when Nines _encourages_ it. From coy smiles to veiled euphemisms to the way he seems to be finding just as many excuses to initiate little touches. Gavin can tell himself it simply pisses him off. But the truth is, it fucking _hurts_ to see Nines act like this with someone else.

 

“—should consider accepting that invitation to the Hamptons one of these days,” Marcel says, pausing only to take a sip of his drink. He’s well on his way to drunk but the prick’s wearing the smirk of a Cheshire cat, looking the picture of confidence in his three-piece suit. “Get away from all this. I can give you a tour of the place, maybe show you those renovations I had done in the master suite. Either way, I’m sure I can find some way to _entertain_ you.”

 

 _Yeah, entertain my foot in your ass, fucker,_ Gavin thinks, angrily.

 

No matter how quietly they’re speaking, Gavin can hear it as if he is looming over the pair, who are sitting way too fucking close on the sofa. He has little doubt that this is intentional: Kamski must have had this place designed so the acoustics allowed all conversations to flow out of the living room, so no one could ever conspire while the drug lord was out of earshot. Clever.

 

But it’s given Gavin little comfort, only fuels his contempt for the Wall Street douchebag.

 

Nines laughs, his fingers gently touching the inside of Marcel’s wrist. And it leaves Gavin so white hot in his rage, he can’t be sure if it’s Marcel he’d like to punch or the gangster for even indulging the asshole. “I think you’d find my hobbies a bit...unconventional. I am a difficult man to please.”

 

“Don’t be so presumptuous, Nines,” Marcel answers, placing a hand on Nines’ thigh. “You know I’m never one to back down from a challenge.”

 

It takes everything Gavin has to not toss the nearest object through the glass wall.

 

And as Marcel goes to lean in, Gavin can’t take it any more, already feels his legs ready to bolt down those stairs and throw that fucker off _his_ Nines. Now that he no longer needs crutches, he moves swiftly and easily across the room, his ire about to reach its boiling point. He’ll make that asshole think twice about touching what doesn’t belong to him.

 

But just as he makes it to the stairs, his foot hitting the first step, a pair of cool, gray eyes flit up to him in warning. The message is clear: _Stand down._

 

Gavin grits his teeth, lingering on the top stop.

 

Forcing a gentle smile on his lips, Nines places a hand on Marcel’s chest, pushing the banker back with a gentle chuckle. “Perhaps we best continue this another time. When we have both had less to drink.”

 

“I’d say I’m disappointed, but you know how much I enjoy it when you play hard-to-get,” the banker smirks, sitting back in his seat. He still hasn’t noticed Gavin behind him, at the top of the stairs. He finishes off the last of the brandy and sets the tumbler down. “One of these days, Nines, you’ll find you’ll be unable to resist my charm. I _always_ close a deal.”

 

“Maybe then we will see if your reputation precedes you,” Nines adds.

 

Unable to stand the scene before him, Gavin storms off back into the room and sits on the edge of the king-sized bed, vibrating with anger. His fingers dig into the expensive linen and he forces himself to remain seated because he knows that if he gets anywhere near those stairs again, he won’t be able to keep himself from confronting them, from giving that fucker a piece of his mind (along with a fist or two).

 

It’s some minutes later that he hears the closing of the front door, the telltale footfalls as the gangster begins the climb up the stairs. Gavin continues to seethe in silence, even as Nines enters the room, and not even the charming smile on the gangster’s lips can tame the fire raging inside of him.

 

Nines opens his mouth, most likely to feed some bullshit to Gavin to calm him down, but Gavin’s not having it.

 

“What the fuck was _that?”_

 

There’s a look of mild irritation on the gangster’s face, which he quickly schools with a pacifying expression. “A business call. As I mentioned earlier—”

 

“Was the business who’s gonna be sucking who’s cock first? Because the only ‘business’ that fucker talked about was what was going on in his pants!”

 

“Marcel can get somewhat sidetracked after a few shots of brandy,” Nines comments, as if it’s the most innocuous thing in the world.

 

“Fucking Christ, Nines, don’t act like this is no big deal!” Gavin snaps, standing to his feet and getting right into the gangster’s personal space. It doesn’t help that Nines looks as smoking as ever in his dark gray suit, the faint scent of brandy and tobacco doing things to Gavin that shouldn’t be happening when he’s this pissed. But it’s easy enough to stay angry when nothing can shake the image of Nines laughing and ‘innocently’ touching that asshole in his head. “You didn’t even tell the guy to fuck off!”

 

“Because, unlike the company I find myself presently in, I am not about to throw a partnership away over a poor choice of words,” Nines answers, calmly reaching for Gavin’s hands.

 

But it’s the wrong thing to say and has Gavin shoving the gangster back, who takes what’s been said more personally than it was probably intended. The last thing he wants to be thinking about is the huge argument that led to him severing his partnership with Connor. “That’s a low fucking blow even for you, Nines.”

 

It takes half a second for him to realize what Gavin is referring to. “Gavin, darling, that’s not what I—”

 

“Is this the shit you do when I’m not around? You let Kamski whore you off to every rich prick he’s got ready to kiss his ass?”

 

If Nines wants to hit below the belt, Gavin can hit even lower.

 

Already, the cracks in Nines’ neutral facade are beginning to show as the gangster struggles to keep his voice even. “I am rarely required to engage with his associates. However, there are some who may have certain...inclinations towards me and engaging in a bit of ‘harmless flirting’ ensures they remain satisfied with our business partnership.”

 

“Harmless flirting’? You were halfway into that asshole’s lap! Let me guess: one more fucking drink and you’d be on your knees closing a deal!”

 

It’s the last blow needed to shatter the gangster’s control and Gavin has that fight he’s been itching for as Nines sneers, “Perhaps if you could look past your own insecurities, you would not find it necessary to pick a fight over _nothing_! I have not, nor would I ever, sleep with someone I work with because unlike the current company I find myself in, I know better than to mix business with pleasure! And yes, Gavin, that time it _was_ intentional!”

 

“And you just expect me to believe that shit was ‘nothing’? How do I know you haven’t been fucking anyone else!”

 

Nines is giving Gavin this look as if he’s an idiot. The condescension is enough to have the detective wanting to wipe that cruel frown off the haughty prick’s face. “...I refuse to even have this discussion with you, not until you can be reasoned with.”

 

He tries to move past Gavin but Gavin’s reflexively grabbing Nines and pulling him back, his fingers digging sharply into the gangster’s wrists. He hopes it leaves bruises. “Don’t you fucking walk away, Nines! You answer the god damn question: you been fucking anyone else?”

 

It’s something Gavin’s never considered, as he just assumed there can’t be anyone else, not with the amount of attention Nines showers on him. But they see each other two, maybe sometimes three, days of the week. Who’s to say what happens on those nights Nines is not with him?

 

With a cold, sinking feeling of dread, Gavin realizes they have never had this conversation.

 

Nines forcefully tugs his wrist out of Gavin’s grip, the coldness in his gaze enough to freeze fire. “You made it clear you had no desire to discuss what I do outside of our time together. By avoiding this conversation, I am honoring that agreement.”

 

Gavin doesn’t want to think of the implications of that, doesn’t want to acknowledge how much it would kill him if Nines has been with anyone else. He’s the one who talked a big game, avoiding any mention of anything that could even remotely suggest exclusivity between them. And yet, he knows that if they’re not, it would shatter him.

 

“Yeah, well, we’re having this conversation: I’m not about to let the asshole I’ve been bare backing with get away with sticking his dick in every fucker who bats his eyes at him! So you better answer the fucking question!”

 

Nines clenches his fists and looks away and Gavin can see how he’s shaking with rage, is trying just as hard to not lash out physically in the same way that Gavin has. Each second that drags makes the tension between them more and more unbearable and the detective’s half convinced the gangster’s doing this on purpose, making Gavin suffer as he waits for a reply. Part of him is ready to break down and take it all back because he doesn’t want to lose whatever... _this_ is. But after all the shit with Connor, he’s also not about to let himself be treated like a disposable object, to be used at Nines’ convenience.

 

Just when Gavin is ready to declare himself done with this shit and walk out, Nines meets his glare and Gavin’s surprised to see a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

 

“There are things I would do for you, and things that I have done for you,” and Murphy’s corpse flashes in Gavin’s mind. _Good fucking riddance_ , “that should tell you all you need. You’ll understand if I refrain from answering such an insulting question.”

 

“Fuck sakes, Nines, will you just answer the—”

 

“No.”

 

The sharpness of it has the words dying on Gavin’s lips, his anger wavering momentarily as he sees the pain his insistence has inflicted. Guilt keeps him from pushing as Nines’ expression becomes once again glacial and the gangster says, with more calm than even Gavin would be able to manage, “I am going to take a shower. _You_ are going to sit here and contemplate the stupidity of what you have accused me of. Then perhaps, by the time I have finished, you will stop entertaining every moronic thought that pops into that overactive brain of yours and we can have a _real_ conversation.”

 

And with all the swagger of the condescending asshole he is, Nines has the fucking nerve to add, “I expect a well-thought apology when I return.”

 

He doesn’t bother closing the bathroom door behind him, leaves it partially open. By the time the water starts running, Gavin’s brain catches up with him and he realizes that that—that manipulative _fucker_ just guilted Gavin to get his way out of an argument.

 

_You fucking asshole!_

 

Gavin’s now angrier than ever, can’t believe he was dumb enough to think for even one second that Nines _had a point_. Nines is the one who practically threw himself at that greasy banker and he has the fucking balls to tell Gavin he’s being a moron for asking a valid question about where his dick has been?

 

Throwing off his t-shirt, Gavin hastily rushes to the bathroom, toeing off his shoes and unbuckling his jeans by the time he’s through the door. It takes less than ten seconds to pull off the rest of his clothing and then he’s hopping in the large shower, one of those fancy-ass ones that has multiple applications, all controlled by a touch panel on the glass. He’s half tempted to make the water blistering cold for the gangster, who’s back is to Gavin, as he soaks under one of the main shower heads.

 

 _Would serve the asshole right,_ he thinks, dropping his hand away from the panel.

 

“I thought I told you to **wait,** ” Nines says, with a cool edge to his voice, as he glares over his shoulder.

 

His back muscles ripple and Gavin’s traitorous dick is far too interested in watching as droplets trickle down that pale flesh but then he’s thinking _Who else has fucking had you like this?_ and he’s so blinded by the thought of the Marcels of the world touching _his_ Nines, that it has him spitting out, “If you think I’m gonna let you get away with avoiding my fucking question, then you’re a fucking idiot! I deserve to know _,_ Nines!”

 

“I do not know what possessed you to _follow_ me in here! We can just as easily argue over this without you disrupting _my_ shower!”

 

Nines has a point and it makes Gavin color. “I—uh—fuck, stop changing the topic! One fucking question! If you’ve got nothing to fucking hide, then why are are you making a big fucking deal out of it?”

 

“Because I am in no mood to encourage your deluded insecurities! Sometimes, I wish you would—!”

 

“—I’m fucking deluded? I’m not the one acting like a fucking cunt over a god damn question—!”

 

“—show some self-restraint! I swear, you have the impulse control of a child--!”

 

“Says the asshole drooling over some slimy fucker’s cock!”

 

“Will you drop it already!” Nines shouts above him, his fist slamming against the glass wall beside him. He’s shaking, nails digging into his palm deep enough that Gavin can see a hint of red where the skin has broken. Like he’s trying not to let that fist find a new target. “Dammit, Gavin, why can’t you let it _go!_ ”

 

“Because you’re mine and I’m not gonna fucking share you!”

 

Whatever argument Nines was in the middle of making dies as the gangster is startled into quiet submission. And Gavin’s taking that opportunity, as he’s unable to deny any longer the fierce urge to stake his claim, pinning Nines roughly against one of the glass walls. He’s never made such declarations aloud, not in the same way Nines does whenever the gangster’s inside of him, because for Gavin, saying it brought them one step closer to being _something._ And the dangerous thing about being _something_ is that anyone who is part of that something can hurt you.

 

Just like Nines did, when he acted as he had earlier.

 

That’s how Gavin knows that they need to be more than the undefined terms they have been playing by.

 

“You’re fucking _mine,_ ” Gavin practically growls, his grip on Nines’ shoulder bruising. Nines’ pupils are blown wide in interest, the thin grays almost disappearing, as the detective says, threateningly, “and if you’ve let anyone else fucking have you, I swear to fucking God—”

 

“You’ll what, Detective?” Nines teases and it should piss him off, the sick amusement Nines is getting out of toying with Gavin’s insecurity. “You have this unfortunate habit of talking a big game but rarely—mmph!”

 

Gavin kisses Nines hard, using more teeth that lips, biting down on flesh until he’s tasting the copper tang on blood. Nines makes a stifled moan and the detective can feel him shift against his firm grip, attempting to take control, but Gavin gives him nothing, is not gonna relent until the asshole tells him what he wants to fucking know.

 

He laps at a trickle of blood that spills from the cut he left, the steam from the shower condensing on their skin and slicking it wet. Nines body glistens beneath his hands, nipples pert and begging for his attention, and how easy it would be to fall to his knees now, to press his teeth to the pale flesh of his inner thighs and mark the gangster so there’s no question that he’s taken.

 

But Gavin is in no mood for mercy.

 

“No one else gets to fucking touch you like this,” Gavin says, nipping down on Nines’ neck. He hears the gangster hiss sharply, lets his teeth drag over the skin pulled between his lips, the cock pressing to his thigh filling quickly. Of course, the sadistic fucker would get off on this shit. But Gavin’s got so much pent up anger, he’d much rather leave it in Nines’ flesh than get into another shouting match.

 

He pinches one of Nines’ nipples roughly between his thumb and forefinger, earning him a loud groan.

 

“Gav—”

 

“Next words out of your fucking mouth better not be more bullshit, Stern.”

 

He twists, watches as the gangster bites down hard on his own lip to stifle a sound in his throat. He rubs his thigh against the thick cock whose shape and feel he knows as well as his own, drags his tongue from the gangster’s chin to his lower lip to collect another droplet of blood. His tongue licks along the edge of Nines’ lips but just as he feels the gangster’s mouth part, Gavin’s pulling back with a glare.

 

“So, you gonna play nice now?”

 

Much to his irritation, Nines huffs. “As I have said, I will not indulge your insecurities by answering—”

 

“Connor and I used to do shit like this.”

 

At the mention of his brother’s name, Nines’ expression becomes murderous.

 

“We used to play this game,” Gavin continues, ignoring the dark look he’s receiving. He runs his hand down Nines’ chest, his smirk vicious, “ _Good Cop, Bad Cop._ Not the standard shit we pull when we interrogate a perp. Nah, this was the kind of shit we’d do when we were fuck—”

 

“I have no desire to hear what you got up to with my brother,” Nines cuts in sharply.

 

“You don’t?” Gavin asks, with a cold chuckle. He squeezes Nines’ ass and feels the gangster squirm against him. “It’s a great story, Nines. You see, the ‘good cop’ can only tell the truth and the ‘bad cop’ only lies. We both know how shitty Connor is at that so guess who always got stuck playing ‘bad cop’?”

 

“Is there a point to this inane story?”

 

Nines stops struggling and if looks could kill, Gavin would be dead ten times over. He knows what those hands are capable of, would not even put it past the gangster should he give into those violent urges and brand Gavin’s flesh in his rage. Part of him even wants it.

 

“I’m getting there. So this one time, Connor’s asking me what I want and I can only fucking lie so I’m trying to be clever with this shit. I tell him he’s shit at what he does so he should blow his fucking _job_ and you know what your brother did? Dropped right to his fucking knees and started sucking my co—!”

 

“Enough!” Nines shouts, shoving Gavin off of him.

 

Gavin stumbles back, hitting his shoulder hard on the opposite wall. Both him and Nines stare each other down but Gavin has seen how wild those eyes can get, is unfazed by the contempt he’s met with. He sneers because he’s this fucking _done_ with Nines and is two seconds away from storming out of here.

 

“Doesn’t feel fucking nice, does it?” Gavin snaps. “The way you feel right now—that’s the shit I felt seeing you with that asshole banker!”

 

Nines’ glare falters and for a moment, he seems almost regretful. But then he’s being his obnoxiously superior self and reasoning, “Marcel is a _job_ , Gavin. It’s _different_. It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“Not to me it doesn’t!”

 

And Gavin hates how his voice cracks, how he’s in that tenuous place between wanting to shout in frustration or curl into a ball beneath the shower head. It feels as if Nines doesn’t get it, as if he _refuses_ to try and understand what Gavin’s feeling, and Gavin’s fucking over having the gangster be so dismissive.

 

For a long moment, Nines doesn’t say anything. And the longer Gavin stands there, naked with only the relentless spray of water to fill the tense silence, the more vulnerable he feels.

 

“Fuck it, I’m done,” Gavin mutters, reaching for the panel to open the sliding glass door.

 

Nines’ hand curls around his wrist and Gavin’s ready to shrug it off, tell the gangster exactly where to stick it, when his voice cuts in, quietly, “No.”

 

Thinking the gangster is trying to keep him there, Gavin sighs, “C’mon, Nines, let me—”

 

“The answer to your question is no,” Nines elaborates. There is a solemnity to what he’s saying and as those eyes look into his own, he can see that Nines feels just as vulnerable. “There’s been no one else since you.”

 

Gavin hesitates.

 

“There won’t be anyone else.”

 

He stares hard into the gangster’s eyes, searches for any deception in the promise Nines is making. But the gangster is defenseless in the weight of everything they are, is as terrified of opening himself to what this means for them.

 

And Gavin suddenly feels like a fucking idiot. Because Nines has bled for him, Nines has _killed_ for him, and Gavin’s stupid enough to let one moment of insecurity question Nines’ loyalty when Nines has been nothing but. He was loyal before Gavin even asked it of him and, in hindsight, Gavin knows that besides their risky sex, Nines technically didn’t owe him that.

 

With a gentle tug, Nines is pulling Gavin into his arms. “I am sorry, Gavin, for my despicable behavior. I should not have been so dismissive.”

 

That more stubborn side wants to resist the open affection Nines is showing him, the genuine regret he hears in the gangster’s voice. And though Gavin’s said some shitty things in the last hour, he’s always found excuses to not have to own up to his cruel tongue.

 

Not this time.

 

Gavin gives a deep sigh, the breath he releases from his lungs taking his anger with it. He squeezes him back. “I’m, uh, sorry too, babe. Fuck, I know I said some dumb shit...”

 

“...you would not be you if you hadn’t.”

 

And Gavin tries to look annoyed but he can’t help but chuckle as he sees the cocky smirk on Nines’ face. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that. But, that Marcel shit...”

 

“I will tone it down considerably from now on,” Nines promises, “whether you are present or not.”

 

“You’d do that?”

 

Gavin knows he sounds way too fucking hopeful.

 

“It’s as you said,” Nines whispers, and he tilts down so his lips are barely brushing Gavin’s, “I am _yours._ No one else gets to touch me.”

 

He kisses Gavin softly. “And that would make you mine as well. So I expect the same treatment.”

 

Gavin smiles against Nines’ lips, his heart hammering in his chest. He’s never been good at the ‘feelings’ thing and it’s probably stupid the way both of them are dancing around what their promises really mean. But he’d feel like an even bigger dork if he came out and said the word ‘boyfriend’ though that’s pretty much what they’ve been since they started this. All that matters is that Nines is _his,_ and Gavin’s _Nines’_ , and that Gavin wouldn’t even dream of letting anyone else have him in the way Nines has.

 

“Damn straight, babe,” Gavin says, “I’m all fucking yours.”

 

Nines steps beneath the shower head, pulling Gavin with him. As water cascades over the pair, he slides his hands over slicked muscles, pulse racing as there’s an almost imperceptible quiver of anticipation for every inch of familiar flesh his fingers map. Blinking away the droplets that spray across his face, he glances up into Nines’ soft eyes, throat thick with all the things he wants to say but that he knows he _can’t._

 

He loves this asshole and not even the atrocities Nines has committed can change that.

 

“ _I had to protect you, Gavin.”_

 

And that had been Nines’ own fucked up way of saying it. How many nights has Gavin awoken since then, clawing at the space in front of him, heart pounding in expectation of the crash that never comes? How many times has Nines held him as Gavin choked back sobs, shaking in the gangster’s embrace? No amount of sweet whispers have comforted him as much as knowing that Nines killed the piece of shit who did that to him and it’s the knowledge that Murphy’s rotting in the fucking ground that helps Gavin sleep at night.

 

“Given my shameless conduct earlier, I may need a severe ‘reminder’ so that I don’t cross those lines again,” Nines says, huskily.

 

Challenge fucking accepted.

 

Gavin tugs Nines down, kisses him wantonly as he presses into the gangster’s solid frame. He grasps at water-slicked locks, angling their faces out of the stream of hot water, tongue sliding against the gangster’s as their kiss deepens. His cock sits full and heavy against Nines’ thigh and all it takes is a slight canting of his hips before he brushes them together and he’s swallowing the low groan that erupts at the back of the gangster’s throat.

 

“Gavin,” Nines’ pants, as the detective reluctantly breaks off the kiss.

 

His nails dig into Nines’ flesh as he drags them down the gangster’s backside, finds just enough friction to leave behind evidence of his conquest. The throaty gasp has Gavin smirking and he doesn’t stop, not until his nails meet the delicious curve of the gangster’s ass. He squeezes the cheek playfully, nips at Nines’ lower lip to reopen the cut from before, and swipes his tongue over it, tasting a hint of copper.

 

“Been a while since I ate ass,” Gavin comments, letting his fingers slide between Nines’ cheeks.

 

As he brushes one against Nines’ hole, the gangster tenses. “I would rather you didn’t.”

 

Gavin’s taken aback by the odd shift in Nines’ demeanor but he buries his disappointment with a forced chuckle, retreating to settle his hand on Nines’ hip. “Guess it’s not for everyone.”

 

Almost instantly, Nines’ lips curl in a bemused smirk and he presses a chaste kiss to Gavin’s temple. His whisper can only just be heard above the roar of the shower as he says, “I would much rather you use that mouth of yours _elsewhere_.”

 

“Here?” Gavin asks, kissing Nines.

 

He feels Nines smile against his lips. “I was thinking somewhere _lower._ ”

 

He presses a kiss to Nines’ chin. “Here?”

 

“Darling, really.”

 

He drags his tongue over Nines’ Adam’s apple, nibbles near the mark he had left earlier.

 

“Gavin,” the gangster complains, his thick cock pressing into the detective’s hip.

 

“Ah, gotcha.”

 

A droplet trickles over the dusky pink skin surrounding one of Nines’ nipples and Gavin’s catching it on his tongue, circling it around the perky bud. Nines voice hitches and Gavin loves that the cocky fucker enjoys a bit of nipple play, pulls it between his teeth and swears the gangster’s struggling to hold back a whine. He’s pinched them before during sex, knows just how much pressure will get his lover keening, and bites down hard enough to have Nines crying out. He then soothes the flesh with his lips, suckles on it gently.

 

“For a detective, you are terrible at reading between the lines,” Nines gasps out.

 

Gavin doesn’t miss the color that’s filled his cheeks and though much of his skin has become pink from the steam of the shower, the detective doubts that’s the only reason.

 

“You’re always telling me I’m a shit detective. Gotta give me something to work with, babe,” Gavin quips.

 

“My meaning was quite clear. I should not have to resort to such... _crassness_ to make my needs known.”

 

And Gavin loves how put off Nines looks, how that haughty attitude is back and the asshole’s looking down his nose at his lover with obvious irritation. It’s not that Nines is some blushing virgin when it comes to dropping f-bombs or using dirty talk: the fucker just thinks he’s above that shit and it usually takes getting him to lose all his cool to dish it in a language Gavin is fluent in.

 

Dropping to his knees, Gavin chuckles. “Christ, Nines, you’re such a fucking _snob._ ”

 

Nines narrows his eyes. “I will not indulge a childish attack on my character. Just because my lexicon is more extensive than your own does not mean I am unable to convey my needs appropriately. It’s called _subtlety,_ Gavin.”

 

“Yeah, whatever you say, princess.”

 

“I’m not a—!”

 

The glare he’s receiving would have most people pissing themselves but it does little to hinder the detective, who coyly nibbles the inside of Nines’ thigh. Without warning, he sinks his teeth into the skin, bites hard enough to leave an impression, and is rewarded with a choked groan of approval. Fingers tangle into his wet locks, yank his head back sharply, and he’s staring up into pupils blown wide with want, lips pulled in a frustrated frown. It’s the calm before the inevitable hurricane and Gavin loves Nines like this, thin patience hanging on its last thread.

 

“Detective,” Nines says, with a forced calm that’s fooling no one, “if you don’t let me fuck that vulgar mouth of yours, I am finishing this _myself._ ”

 

Bold of the sexy fucker to assume Gavin wouldn’t want to watch that pretty head tossed back as Nines’ jacks himself off.

 

Luckily, Gavin loves it when Nines talks dirty. So he opens his mouth wide, grips the gangster’s hips, and nearly gags as Nines forcefully thrusts past his parted lips. Tears spring to the detective’s eyes because fuck does it _burn_ when the tip of the gangster’s monster cock prods the narrow cavern of his throat, tongue spasming against the foreign intrusion. But he keeps his gaze locked on those sharp eyes filled with such wild need, trembles at the sexy pull of the gangster’s lips as he slowly pulls out and then thrusts back in, just as deep.

 

“Gavin,” Nines groans, his voice hitching on the second syllable. He grips the detective’s head with both hands, forcing his mouth to meet each roll of the gangster’s hips. “I will fuck your throat so raw, you will be choking long after I have cummed.”

 

Gavin swears his cock weeps in neglect, something hot curling in his abdomen on hearing every crass declaration spilling off that haughty tongue. He gargles, saliva dripping down his chin each time Nines pulls out, only to shove himself back in deep enough to make Gavin feel as if the gangster’s made it half way down his throat. He’s gotten better at taking Nines’ size but it never makes it hurt any less with a kind of pain that leaves his cock throbbing against his thighs. But as Nines continues to fuck his mouth mercilessly, Gavin scrapes his nails down the gangster’s hips, leaves deep red trails that have the gangster’s composure falling rapidly.

 

Nines may tell himself he’s in control, but Gavin’s got the handsome asshole right where he wants him.

 

Tugging Gavin’s face all the way down his shaft, Nines pushes as deep as he can go, holds Gavin there as he groans loudly. The detective’s nose is buried in the gangster’s fine pubic hairs, tears and drops from the shower’s spray dripping down his cheeks, throat convulsing in discomfort. With control that’s taken years to perfect, Gavin forces his throat to spasm around the thick head of Nines’ cock and he swears he can feel the gangster tremble as his fingers dig sharply into Gavin’s skull.

 

 _That’s it, babe,_ Gavin thinks, breathing hard through his nose when Nines moves once more, _Cum down my fucking throat._

 

He fondles Nines’ balls, rolling the heavy sack in his palm, and hears his name break on the gangster’s tongue. He can tell Nines is getting close, the gangster fucking his face as if he’s in a god damn marathon, and Gavin wants nothing more than to see him over that finish line, feel his completion spurt in hot threads down his throat.

 

“G-Gavin, darling, I—”

 

Gavin’s chest warms upon hearing the term of endearment and he’s never gonna get tired of it. Nines can’t finish what he’s gonna say, voice cracking in a loud moan as he’s shoving himself deep into the detective’s mouth. Nines tenses and Gavin knows what’s coming, hums so the narrow cavern of his throat vibrates around the head of his dick and then something warm and viscous pours down his throat and it’s the detective’s turn to moan. Greedy fucker that he is, he swallows Nines’ cum like he’s on the precipice of succumbing to the perils of thirst, sucking all that the gangster has to offer even as his throat aches from the poor treatment it’s received: there’s no doubt, he will be feeling this for a while after.

 

Popping his mouth off Nines’ dick, Gavin has hardly time to catch his breath before Nines is pulling him up to his feet and kissing him beneath the shower’s spray, eager tongue licking the inside of Gavin’s mouth to taste what little of him remains. Fucking cumslut. Nines doesn’t give a shit whose cum he’s eating, so long as it’s _someone_ he’s tasting when he’s kissing him this ravenously.

 

“Can’t even give me a moment to breathe,” Gavin croaks out, holding the spent gangster tightly. Nines pants into his ear, swaying on unsteady feet in the aftermath of his orgasm, and Gavin has to ignore a hot trill that races over his flesh as the gangster brushes against his hard cock. Instead, he runs his hands down Nines’ back, keeping both of them upright, as the gangster begins to come down from his post orgasm high.

 

“I may have been a bit too enthusiastic,” the gangster rasps out, exhaling with a low shudder.

 

Gavin smirks. “You did say I’d be choking on it.”

 

Shit. He sounds as if he’s been smoking five packs a day for twenty years straight. He needs to step up his game. Luckily, he has little doubt Nines would be up for some more ‘practice’ in the future.

 

Nines lifts his head, brushes the tip of his nose against the detective’s. He’s always dishing out affection as if Gavin’s that fucking starved for it and it may be adorable as fuck but the detective is barely comfortable admitting that to himself. However, it doesn’t stop him from melting a little when the gangster kisses the corner of his lips softly. “I have been known to accurately predict foreseeable outcomes.”

 

“Is that you using that fancy lexicon of yours to say you state the obvious?” Gavin says. With a snicker, he adds, “That you’re a ‘Captain Obvious’?”

 

Nines looks thoroughly unimpressed. “...must you, Gavin?”

 

“That’s how I roll, babe,” Gavin says, unable to keep from grinning.

 

In the time they’ve spent in the shower, it’s gotten rather hot and Gavin’s now convinced that it’s not only water slicking his skin. He reluctantly allows Nines to pull out of his embrace, though his hands linger low on the gangster’s hips and he’s struggling not to think about the ache standing to full attention between them.

 

“We should finish up in here,” Nines says, squirting some shower gel into his hands. He lathers it between his palms, then grips Gavin’s shoulders, slowly sliding his hands down the sides of his arms. After the hot face fucking Gavin received, his skin awakens to the gangster’s touch and Nines, in all his cruelty, presses in just enough to let Gavin’s dick know it hasn’t been forgotten. “And then, let’s take this to the other room. I think the bed would be far more appropriate for the things I want to do to you.”

 

“Whatcha got against shower sex?”

 

Nines spreads soap down Gavin’s backside, his gentle caresses making the detective lean against the gangster’s chest, contented sigh spilling off his lips. Nines teases Gavin’s ear lobe, tongue hot as it flicks out to collect a droplet of water and his husky reply sends a warm shiver down Gavin’s spine, “The space is less optimal for what I have planned. If I am to take you on your hands and knees, I’d rather we be somewhere more comfortable.”

 

With a growl, Gavin kisses Nines hungrily, digging his cock into the gangster’s thigh. He’d be fucking lying if he said that the thought of Nines fucking him on all fours doesn’t have him wanting to drop down immediately, ass raised like he’s a bitch aching for it. Fuck the discomfort, he’ll do anything Nines wants when he’s this hard and his balls are ready to explode if he doesn’t cum soon.

 

Yet…

 

“That sounds hot as shit, babe,” Gavin says, reaching back to collect some shower gel. He drags his soapy hands down the taut muscles of Nines’ back side, trailing lower and lower until he’s cupping the gangster’s ass. With a dorky leer, he squeezes, and tilts his face upwards to ghost his lips against the gangster’s, “But you know what’d be even hotter? Me. Fucking you. On all fours.”

 

He goes to kiss Nines again, mouth moving against the gangster’s. But not a moment into the kiss, he realizes Nines is not kissing him back. In fact, as he pulls away, he notes that change in the gangster’s demeanor from earlier. It leaves an unsettling feeling in Gavin, as if he’s crossed some unknown boundary.

 

“You never expressed such desires before,” Nines says, and there’s something almost accusatory about the forced nonchalance.

 

And Gavin, who’s always shit at holding back, can’t help but add, a bit defensively, “Hey, if you’re not into it, you’re not into it. No need to get so bent out of shape over it.”

 

It’s the wrong thing to say and if Gavin’s brain would just catch up with his mouth, maybe he could have avoided it. Nines stiffly extricates himself from Gavin’s arms, pushing forcefully on the glass panel to open the shower door. As he steps out, he adds, coolly, “I will leave you to finish your shower.”

 

“It wasn’t my fucking shower!” Gavin calls after Nines retreating figure. He jabs at the panel to stop the water, moodily swipes back the wet bangs that have fallen over his eyes. He’s about to follow hot on the gangster’s trail when he makes himself pause and, for once, does something sensible. Tensions are obviously still high from their fight earlier, if something as innocent as Nines’ rejection of Gavin wanting to switch things up has both of them back at each other’s throats. Gavin exhales slowly, tries to bury that need to lash out once more. He’s not gonna be _that guy_ , the one who throws a god damn temper tantrum and then tries to pressure their partner for something they don’t want.

 

_Get it together, Reed._

 

And though his pride is taking a huge hit, Gavin exits the shower and towels himself off. He uses that time to calm that impulsive urge to _attack_ when the only urge he should be having is to apologize for being an insensitive dick.

 

Grabbing his underwear, he slides them on before entering into the master bedroom. Nines is standing in the middle of the room, wrapped in a black, silk robe, his back to the detective. Carefully, Gavin comes up behind him, his arms sliding around the gangster’s waist as he mumbles into Nines’ shoulder, “I shouldn’t have been such a dick.”

 

For a moment, the gangster’s posture remains tense. Then slowly, Gavin feels him relax and the detective releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “You are a dick about a lot of things. What is it specifically you are attempting to apologize for this time?”

 

The first thoughts that spring to mind are vicious retorts and Gavin has to bite down on his tongue to keep from saying them. He’s gonna be the bigger man, own up to his shit.

 

“For what I said back there, obviously.”

 

...or not.

 

He hears the eye roll Nines is no doubt giving him, the gangster’s voice edged in irritation. “That is, perhaps, the worst apology you have ever given. ‘Sorry’ is a five letter word and not that difficult to say.”

 

“Guess you better buy me a fucking dictionary cause the only five letter word I wanna be saying starts with ‘p’ and rhymes with ‘dick’.”

 

Nines is viciously pushing away from Gavin, turning on his heels to face the detective. Though Gavin instantly regrets snapping, that toxic side of him that’s always loved fueling a raging fire burns hot upon seeing the glare the gangster’s wearing. “Why must you _always_ be like this?”

 

“I’m not the one being a complete fucking asshole about an apology!”

 

“No, you’re only a complete asshole about everything else!”

 

“Yeah, well maybe if you’d tell me what’s going on in that fucking head of yours, I would stop saying all the wrong shit all the time!” Gavin shouts.

 

Much to his shock, Nines’ mouth snaps shut. He regards the detective coldly and part of Gavin wants Nines to push back, to let this escalate until both of them can bury the real issue beneath a marathon of angry sex. It’s how Gavin usually deals with this crap and with the way everything he’s said tonight seems to be setting the gangster off, he’s too god damn tired to do it any other way.

 

But then, Nines starts to deflate. “You are right.”

 

And that, is perhaps, the most shocking thing of all.

 

“...I am?”

 

The dirty look Nines gives him has Gavin wisely choosing not to gloat.

 

With a sigh, the gangster strides over towards the large bed and seats himself at the edge of it. His hands folded in his lap, he stares down at the plush rug beneath his feet and admits, quietly, “You seemed to like what we have been doing so far, I never thought this would be an issue.”

 

And with sinking dismay, Gavin realizes that it’s not just about Nines being too proud. There’s a specific reason he lashed out and it doesn’t come from something as benign as a ‘preference’.

 

Before Nines can say anything else, Gavin’s dropping to his knees, taking the gangster’s hands in his. He kisses one of his knuckles, and says, softly, “Nines, babe, I didn’t mean to—fuck, I’m so sorry—”

 

“You didn’t know, Gavin,” Nines answers. “It’s not as if we have talked about it.”

 

It doesn’t make Gavin feel any less like an asshole. While him and Connor had taken turns, depending on whatever struck the mood, Gavin had still found himself bottoming more often than not and, in all honesty, it’s what he prefers. He only suggested it because it’s something him and Nines haven’t tried and the thought’s crossed his mind a few times before but he’s just as happy to stick to what they’ve been doing.

 

“Babe, have you ever…?”

 

Nines gives him a _look._ “Must you even ask?”

 

Ah, right.

 

“It’s been some years. But, yes, Gavin, I have found myself in _that_ position before.”

 

The gangster takes a deep breath and Gavin squeezes his hands encouragingly. Nines rarely opens up about his past, not unless it’s to make some snide remark about either Connor or Amanda and even then, those are topics the gangster actively avoids. So while Gavin’s curiosity is certainly piqued, he is also in no mood to rush Nines, knows how difficult this is for him.

 

“I am certain my moronic brother gave you some sterilized version of what happened a decade ago,” Nines begins, unable to hide his contempt. “Shortly after I was released on parole, I found myself homeless. I was cut off from my parents’ income and Connor was forbidden from supporting me, though he violated our mother’s wishes. It helped but there were things I had to...do, to remain off the streets...”

 

He lets his confession hang there, allowing Gavin to reach his own conclusions. A sick sensation sits heavily in the pit of Gavin’s stomach because he _knows_ what sort of shit a barely legal teen with a criminal record gets mixed up in. But he won’t push further, doesn’t want Nines to confess to what that is, what he did to survive. There is something that looks like regret in Nines’ eyes but it passes almost as soon as it appears.

 

“After Connor left, I needed help. I had connections with inmates back in state who recommended I seek out Elijah Kamski, someone who was quite active in assisting ex-convicts in need of employment.”

 

Gavin nearly snorts. Oh course. Elijah fucking Kamski, Detroit’s rising millionaire and “philanthropist”. A man of the people whose hands are dirtier than half the fucks locked up in state. Those places seem to be breeding grounds for recruitment and Gavin can see how a 19 year old kid like Nines would have been tempted to jump on anything Kamski was offering if the other option was the streets.

 

“Elijah provided what my own family would not. He also assisted in an incident I had recklessly gotten into. I was indebted to him,” Nines continues. And while Gavin has been listening raptly so far, he’s been struggling to make the connection, the reason the gangster feels this necessary to tell him. “After a time, it became quite clear Elijah was interested in more than my particular...skill set.”

 

The words are lodged so thick in Gavin’s throat, he can barely bring himself to ask, “You and Kamski?”

 

Nines diverts his gaze and Gavin can see clearly the shame and anger written in the gangster’s expression. It makes Gavin’s insides curl at the thought of that asshole putting his hands on Nines.

 

“I was young and desperate. And Elijah has a way of making someone feel important: I finally felt as if there was someone who understood what I was going through in a way my family never had,” Nines admits. “But I was also too careless and arrogant to see the real intentions behind Kamski’s ‘attraction’.”

 

Nines releases a shaky breath and Gavin sees how he’s conflicted about opening up like this. But then the last of his resolve is slipping and there’s a look so broken in his eyes, it shatters something inside Gavin.

 

“I let him have me anyway he wanted. I did whatever he pleased. So when he inevitably made those intentions clear, I felt used and _humiliated_ ,” and Nines’ voice cracks in disgust upon saying it. “He was never interested in anything more than exploiting my desperation. I was _alone_ and...”

 

But Nines can’t bring himself to finish, the self-contempt evident in his grimace. With a shake of his head, he adds, quietly, “After Kamski had thoroughly had his amusement of me, I promised I would never make myself vulnerable like that again.”

 

And Gavin finally understands. For Nines, something as simple as submitting physically to another person carries with it the weight of what Kamski had done, how he’s manipulated Nines into an obedient henchman that Gavin’s seen firsthand makes the gangster snap to attention any time Kamski gives an order. Gavin’s learned to not question it, to hold his fucking tongue if Nines has to drop everything and run off to fuck know’s where for that prick. But it doesn’t mean he’s ever liked seeing how readily Kamski commands and controls the gangster.

 

The thought leaves Gavin shaking in his fury. “So that asshole just took advantage of you? Fucked with you and when he got sick of that, he kept you around to do all his dirty shit for him?”

 

Nines noticeably stiffens. “I made myself vulnerable—”

 

“No, you didn’t! Christ, Nines, you were just a kid! And you still work for that fucker!”

 

“There are some debts that are not easily repaid, Gavin.”

 

There’s a deep shame in Nines’ eyes and Gavin can’t help but wonder what in the fuck that debt could be. If it’s kept Nines around for this long, Kamski must have some pretty rough shit on the gangster.

 

“Yeah, well, if someone used me the way that prick used you, I don’t give a shit what that asshole thinks I owe him. I’d drop the fucker because no one deserves that!”

 

A look passes over Nines’ face, one that Gavin can’t quite decipher. For a moment, he would almost swear Nines looks _guilty_ but that would make no fucking sense at all. Unless Nines feels guilty for outing Kamski as the sleazy scumbag he is but there’s little else anyone can say about that prick to make Gavin have a lower opinion of him.

 

“You deserved better than that, Nines,” Gavin continues, his grip on the gangster’s hands fierce, “Fuck, if I knew...I wouldn’t have been such a prick about it earlier.”

 

“It’s alright, Gavin.”

 

“No, it’s fucking not,” Gavin insists. “Nines, I...look, when I asked to fuck you, I wasn’t trying to—I didn’t wanna make you feel I’m controlling you. Or using you. I’d never do that, Nines. Not to you.”

 

There is so much swimming in the gangster’s eyes and he seems stunned into silence, eyes widening as he’s processing what Gavin’s saying. But it shouldn’t come as a shock to him; he should know how much he means to Gavin, how much all this shit _matters._

 

_Tell him, you fucking coward._

 

It’s there, that word that’s always eluded him in these moments. Nines may have lectured him on five letter words, but there’s one even more important than that. Four letters, one syllable.

 

“Nines, I...”

 

And Gavin clams up. He fucking clams up. Because he _knows_ what happened the last time he said it, what a fucking disaster his life became when Connor decided he no longer reciprocated _._ The pain of it left scars he knows have only barely begun to heal and Gavin has way too many of those, both on and beneath his flesh.

 

He does. He knows he does.

 

But saying it, leaving himself at the mercy of someone else?

 

He can’t.

 

Not yet.

 

At a loss, he kisses Nines’ hands, trying to convey everything he’s unable to say in the tenderness of his lips pressing against each knuckle. He opens them to kiss at the slow-forming scabs, reddened crescents that seem to be ever present on the gangster’s palms. Part of him wishes Nines wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t abuse his own flesh to tame his wild temper. But all Gavin can do is shower silent affection, his way of saying he _gets it._

 

His heart’s thudding rapidly, the erratic pounding of it the only sound that fills Gavin’s ears and he doesn’t dare look up into Nines’ inquisitive gaze, knows all it would take is for those cool gray eyes to look into his own and lay bare everything Gavin feels for him.

 

“Gavin...”

 

The detective is startled, nearly falls back as the gangster slides down onto his lap, gently takes Gavin’s face in his hands. And Gavin has no choice but to look into that piercing gaze, heart caught in his throat as they scrutinize him. The gangster’s robe has fallen open, the sleeve on his left shoulder sliding down his arm and Gavin splays his hand across the gangster’s pale flesh, thumb brushing over the leftover scar from the wound he had patched up.

 

Seconds pass and Nines doesn’t say anything.

 

Then, they’re kissing, Nines’ mouth moving desperately against Gavin’s, hips grinding down so his stirring cock is pressing into the detective’s hip. Gavin utters a sound but it’s lost in their kiss and when Nines angles his hips just right to press against the detective’s erection, a hot trill erupts inside of Gavin, has him shuddering with need.

 

“Fuck me,” Nines whimpers breathlessly against Gavin’s lips.

 

The weight of what Nines is asking crashes over Gavin. It sobers him, even as his dick throbs with want, and there’s so much more Gavin needs to be sure of before he even entertains going through with this: Nines is _vulnerable_ and it could make shit even worse if the gangster’s only offering because of their argument.

 

But, of course, his stupid mouth is running before he can think it through. “Whatever happened to subtlety?”

 

“Fuck subtlety.”

 

Fuck, why does Nines have to be that much hotter when he’s cursing?

 

And Nines is kissing him once more, shrugging off his robe so it pools on the rug around them. Gavin’s greedy hands slide over exposed flesh, still warm from the shower, and his aching dick has him thinking how fucking amazing it will be to bury himself in Nines’ tight ass, to watch as Nines writhes and moans as Gavin pounds into him. He’s fucking dreamed of doing this, has cummed into his own hand a few times wishing the pressure on his cock was replaced by the kind of heat only Nines’ body can offer.

 

But as Nines’ lips leave his, begin to pepper kisses across the detective’s jaw, the gravity of what they’re about to do has Gavin stopping the gangster.

 

“You’re sure?” Gavin asks, his voice rough. “Because I’m down with what we usually do—”

 

“ _I_ am going to climb up onto that bed on all fours,” Nines says, in a husky whisper, “and _you_ are going to retrieve the lubricant on the nightstand. And then after you have licked me open, you are going to fuck me so hard, there will be no doubt left in my mind _who_ I belong to.”

 

For someone who usually rolls his eyes at Gavin’s crassness, Nines is a fucking natural when it comes to talking dirty.

 

Gavin swallows hard, watches as Nines gracefully climbs up onto the bed and does just as he said he would. Prostrated on all fours, ass lifted so Gavin’s got an eyeful of that puckered hole, the gangster’s the picture of submission and Gavin doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything this hot in his life.

 

“Well, what are you waiting for, detective?”

 

Nines’ impatience is clear and has the detective scrambling to his feet, lips lifting in amusement: leave it to the gangster to be bossy as fuck even when he’s bent over and presenting himself like the wanton fuck he is.

 

He shucks off his boxers, setting aside the lube so it’s within reach, and Gavin crawls on the bed behind Nines. His fingers ghost over the harsh red lines he left on the back of the gangster’s thighs and Nines releases a shuddery exhale.

 

“We can stop whenever you want, babe,” he says softly, taking both cheeks in his hands and kneading the flesh gently.

 

Nines visibly relaxes and Gavin takes that opportunity to drink in the delicious sight of him. He’s spent more than his fair share of time ogling the gangster’s firm backside, not nearly as much this close. The marks Gavin left with his teeth and nails are stark on the gangster’s pale skin, rounded cheeks pert beneath his palms. Nines’ thighs are spread enough that Gavin has a glimpse of the pinkened skin surrounding the gangster’s hole and he salivates in anticipation, drops his gaze to the heavy sac dangling between those muscled thighs.

 

Nines is doing this all for him. And Gavin’s determined to make this good for him, determined to make the gangster come undone as Gavin opens him up.

 

He sees a mole on the curve of one of Nines’ cheeks, licks a stripe across it. A breathy sound spills off Nines’ lips and Gavin teases the gangster’s entrance by tracing a line from it down to the back of the gangster’s balls. Nines gives a frustrated huff but Gavin hardly indulges him, taking his sweet time to plant kisses along those pale curves.

 

“I suspect it would be quicker if I did this myself,” Nines mutters into the blanket.

 

Gavin bites down. Hard.

 

Whatever sound Nines is making is stifled by the bedding, though Gavin’s rewarded with a visible curling of the gangster’s toes. That silenced his complaining pretty quick.

 

Pressing the flat of a fingertip against the puckered hole, Gavin smirks. “But it wouldn’t be as fun. Stop trying to rush an artist at work.”

 

“You are hardly an artist.”

 

“...you really wanna drag this out, Stern? Cuz I can do this all fucking day.”

 

He circles the hole with his finger, tickles the pink flesh within the crease. It has Nines making yet another sound of impatience.

 

“Gavin.”

 

And now, he’s using his Stern twin ‘you’re-being-admonished’ voice.

 

“Say the magic word, babe.”

 

He can hear the glare that the gangster must be wearing.

 

“I will not _beg_ , if that is what you are expecting.”

 

Gavin’s gonna enjoy this.

 

“Sure, babe,” he says, humoring his lover.

 

And then Gavin swipes his tongue over Nines’ hole.

 

Saliva drips down to the back of the gangster’s balls and there is an almost imperceptible tremble as Nines breathes out. Hard.

 

“Gavin...”

 

The detective collects copious amounts of saliva in his mouth, dribbles it on the gangster’s entrance. Then he tongues the space behind Nines’ sac, hands gripping the gangster’s thighs tightly as Nines attempts to press back whenever Gavin’s tongue slides close to his hole. The gangster radiates tension but the kind Gavin wants, body aching for _something_ to enter him.

 

Unable to withstand any more of Gavin’s teasing, Nines reaches back, yanks Gavin by the hair roughly, brows furrowed as he says, “If you do not find a more practical use for that tongue, I will find something else to fuck myself on.”

 

Then, as an afterthought, he adds, sarcastically, “Please,” and shoves Gavin’s face against his ass.

 

Asshole couldn’t even let him have that.

 

But Gavin quickly relents, nothing getting him harder than Nines handling him roughly. They’re doing this on the gangster’s terms and if it takes some hair pulling and forcefully shoving his face in places he very much wants to be, well then sign Gavin the fuck up. Control’s overrated anyway.

 

He pushes past that first ring of resistance, presses against the muscles contracting around his insistent tongue. He barely registers the soft moan Nines utters, lost in the taste and feel of his lover’s body greedily swallowing him as he probes deeper. For someone who hasn’t done this in so long, Nines’ body feels willing to take whatever Gavin wants to put in him and it leaves Gavin’s cock aching, as if to remind him he’s been at full mast for way too fucking long.

 

“Jesus Christ, your ass tastes amazing, babe,” Gavin groans.

 

Nines shudders as Gavin’s exhales tickle his dripping asshole. Building up more spit, Gavin tongues his way back in, drool spilling down his chin in thick globs as he thrusts in shallowly. Nines arches back into his face, tries to piston back on Gavin’s tongue, but the detective’s bruising grip on his muscled thighs limits the gangster’s movement.

 

“G-Gavin,” Nines grits out, struggling to keep his voice even. To save face, he commands, “Deeper.”

 

With a wolfish grin, Gavin retracts his tongue. Nines fails to hold back a sound of displeasure but it’s worth seeing the shameless arch of his spine as his body supplicates itself for the detective. Gavin presses a finger to Nines’ drool slicked hole, going in only deep enough to bury the first knuckle into his lover.

 

“Like this?”

 

Nines gives him a heated look.

 

“More.”

 

And that’s beginning to sound like begging.

 

So Gavin thrusts it in deep, Nines’ tight walls constricting around his finger. Unlike the gangster’s, his are shorter and thicker, the depth at which he reaches forcing the gangster to adjust to the sudden intrusion. He worries, for a brief moment, that he should have eased it in but then Nines encourages him by moaning his name so Gavin slowly fucks it in and out of him, lowering back down to lick the skin surrounding Nines’ asshole.

 

Leaving his hole sufficiently wet, Gavin adds a second finger. The stretch is a bit rougher but Nines fucks himself back on Gavin’s hand, even as the detective tries to take it slower, so Gavin gives him exactly what he wants. He pushes in, curls his fingers to scrape against Nines from the inside, and he swears he’s never heard his name break the way it does as it tumbles off the gangster’s lips.

 

As he penetrates Nines with his fingers, Gavin mouths at the gangster’s sac, tugs part of it between his lips to suckle at the soft flesh. His cock throbs at every sound he hears the gangster make but it’s easy to ignore how desperate his dick is for some attention when he’s making Nines feel this good. He licks his way back up, scissoring his fingers to widen Nines’ hole, and with great care, presses the tip of his tongue inside.

 

“G-Gavin!” Nines whines, keening back on the detective’s face, “D-darling, please!”

 

That word has never sounded more sweet.

 

With a triumphant chuckle, Gavin sits back on his haunches, giving Nines’ ass a playful slap. The gangster glares back at him. “Told ya I’d make you beg.”

 

“Gavin,” Nines begins, irritation edging his voice. His voice already sounds broken, yet he still manages to be intimidating as he says, “I demand you get inside of me. NOW.”

 

And to make his point, he takes the lube, squirts far more than needed into his palm, and grasps Gavin’s cock. The detective releases a long, shuddering groan as Nines slicks the shaft and head with the viscous liquid, his head falling to the back of the gangster’s shoulder. It feels so fucking good to finally have something touching his dick that for a moment, Gavin is lost in the sensation, eager to thrust up into the gangster’s palm and chase that friction until he cums. Almost too soon, Nines releases him, falling forward onto his elbows and pushing back against Gavin’s cock.

 

Ah, right.

 

Though there is a very noticeable change in Nines’ demeanor from earlier—and fuck, has Gavin been wanting to do this since the first time he jacked off to it—no amount of aching to fill the gangster up can make Gavin ignore how significant this is, even if Nines is back to his haughty self. It’s what prompts his hesitation as Nines presses against his dick, has Gavin’s hands stopping those hips from pistoning back onto his throbbing erection.

 

“Nines...babe, you sure about this?”

 

Seeing the concern on Gavin’s face, Nines sits back, twists to gently press his lips to the detective’s. There’s a warmth to his eyes, his expression unguarded as he whispers, with unwavering conviction, “Yes, Gavin. I trust you.”

 

_I love you_

 

The thought strikes Gavin fiercely, his heart thumping rapidly, as he slides an arm around Nines’ waist, tugs him back against his chest so he can kiss him hungrily. He says it in the way he laces his fingers through the gangster’s, in the way he’s holding him as if even a moment of physical separation would be unbearable, and he hopes that Nines _knows_ , that Nines understands what all of this means.

 

_I love you...so fucking much…_

 

Gavin can’t say it but he can show it, in the one language they are both well-versed in.

 

He pushes Nines forward, takes the gangster by the hips, and positions himself behind him. He’s got far less to work with but Gavin’s never been hung up on being average, experience proving he knows exactly what to do with what he’s got. Still, he knows Nines is gonna be feeling that initial stretch so with great care, Gavin pushes only until the tip breaches Nines’ opening, pausing when he feels the gangster tense.

 

“N-Nines...babe, y-you need to relax,” Gavin says, his voice hitching.

 

He’s barely inside of the gangster but already, the feel of Nines squeezing around the head of his dick is almost too fucking much. It’s been so long since Gavin’s been on this end of it that it’s almost overwhelming and he wants nothing more than to bury himself as deep as he can go, sheath himself until his balls are hitting that firm ass, and fucking Nines so hard, the gangster forgets anyone else who’s ever had him like this.

 

Nines exhales and Gavin feels the release of the gangster’s tension, eases in painstakingly slow. He’s so deliciously tight, it’s a struggle to hold back but Gavin wants to savor every sensation, groans as Nines squeezes around him. Nines drops his head, white knuckled grip bunching rich linen, and as he whimpers the detective’s name, Gavin thinks he’s never looked more beautiful than he does in this moment.

 

“Nines,” Gavin whispers, voice shaky. He presses a tender kiss to the middle of Nines’ back, gives the gangster time to adjust. Being inside Nines feels so fucking amazing, no word Gavin can think of can do justice to what he’s experiencing. So he utters the gangster’s name once more, pulls out almost as slowly as he entered, and thrusts back in.

 

Nines tries to hold back a grunt but his discomfort is obvious. Gavin’s half-way out, about to push back in, when he pauses.

 

“Babe—”

 

“Don’t. Stop,” Nines grits out.

 

It’s not the most encouraging demand but Gavin has little time to process it before Nines is shoving back hard on his cock. Caught off guard, his grip loosens on the gangster’s hips and Gavin’s moaning loudly as Nines begins to move, setting a pace that Gavin’s been too concerned to initiate. He almost forgets that he should be doing anything at all, salivating over the sight of that milky white ass pushing back onto his cock. With a slight canting of the gangster’s hips, Nines is moaning loudly, arching deeply as if he’s doing one of those pretentious yoga positions.

 

Fuck...he probably _does_ do yoga if he’s that fucking flexible…

 

“Th-there,” Nines groans. “G-Gavin...”

 

And Gavin’s brain finally catches up with him.

 

He moves, thrusting to meet Nines’ hips, encouraged by how vocal the gangster’s become, how he can feel his thighs quiver every time Gavin buries himself in deep once more. As he feels that familiar pressure from low in his abdomen begin to build, Gavin pistons hard into his lover, fingers leaving marks that will paint the gangster’s flesh in shades of blue and purple. He wants for Nines to be able to see those marks later and recall how Gavin had taken him, how Gavin is the only one who gets to be inside of him.

 

“F-fuck, babe,” Gavin pants, ramming into him, “your ass is so fucking tight.”

 

He’s quickly losing himself in Nines’ heat, sweaty bangs obscuring the gorgeous sight in front of him as he feels that ache inside escalate. He’s getting close—so god damn close, and how hot is it that he’ll be cumming inside the gangster, who prides himself in always having control? Gone is any pretense of that, Nines bringing Gavin closer to the edge as he slams his hips back with wild abandon, moans loudly each time Gavin fucks into him.

 

“B-Babe, f-fuck, I’m so close—”

 

Quite unexpectedly, Nines pulls away, managing to maneuver out of Gavin’s grasp. The loss of the gangster’s walls clasping around his dick makes the detective cry out in surprise but then Nines is tugging him into his arms and kissing Gavin desperately, tongue piercing past his lips in a wet and wanton display. He’s so caught up in the small sounds Nines is making, in the firm hand that holds the base of his cock, he doesn’t realize he’s been pushed onto his back until Nines breaks the kiss and Gavin’s met with the titillating sight of watching the gangster lower onto his cock.

 

“Oh fuck yeah,” Gavin gasps, grabbing Nines by the waist.

 

Nines begins to move, bouncing on Gavin’s dick as if he was born to ride it. With his head thrown back, Gavin’s name spills off his lips in soft gasps, breaking off into breathless moans each time he seats himself fully. He looks so fucking gorgeous, cheeks pink from the exertion, Gavin’s heart stutters and he’s so overwhelmed that this is _his,_ that this is something Nines is sharing with him, that it leaves him misty eyed.

 

His orgasm quickly approaching, Gavin takes Nines’ large cock in hand, pumps his fist over it, and is rewarded with a soft whine. “Oh, G-Gavin, darling...”

 

It doesn’t take much. Another few strokes in time with Nines driving his hips down and the gangster’s releasing in thick streams of pearly white, painting creamy lines across Gavin’s chest. The sight of Nines cumming, Gavin’s name a desperate cry on the gangster’s tongue, is the final push Gavin needs as Nines clenches down on him and he’s spilling inside that firm ass, vision whiting out as he’s rocked by hot trills bursting from his core. He rides each euphoric wave, lazily rolls his hips as he empties himself inside of Nines, prolonging the sensation of being with his lover like this for as long as his body can take it.

 

With a sigh, Nines collapses forward, bent over the detective and face buried in Gavin’s neck as he gently pants against Gavin’s sweat-slicked skin. Blearily, Gavin runs a hand down Nines’ back, holds the gangster against him as both of them come down from their post-orgasm high, their quiet pants the only sound echoing in the comforting silence that follows.

 

“I forgot how good that can feel,” Nines quietly confesses.

 

He lifts his head, stares down into Gavin’s eyes with an unguarded expression and though his bangs have fallen over his face, Gavin can see so much swimming in those gray eyes. In a wave of affection, Gavin utters the first thought that pops into his head, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

 

And he means it. For all the fucked up things Nines is capable of, for the violence and horror his twisted head has inflicted on the world, Nines is all Gavin could want and he wouldn’t think of changing any of it, even if it means that whatever darkness consumes the elusive gangster will eventually swallow Gavin whole.

 

There’s a sadness in Nines’ eyes that Gavin doesn’t expect. But it’s gone before Gavin can ask, Nines’ eyes fluttering closed as he leans down and kisses the detective softly. After the emotional evening they’ve had, Gavin decides he can leave it for another day, when both of them aren’t as mentally and physically exhausted.

 

“So,” Gavin asks, lightening the mood with a smirk, “this mean we can try this again some time?”

 

Nines huffs in feigned annoyance but is unable to hold back a smile. “I...may take it into consideration. I suppose you could have been worse.”

 

“Could have been worse? Jesus fucking Christ, babe, no need to sell it that hard,” Gavin says, sarcastically.

 

Nines laughs, presses another chaste kiss to Gavin’s lips, and Gavin’s relieved to see the gangster return to his usual self. “Seeing as you had a hard time focusing on the one task you were given, thus forcing me to take initiative, I will have to give you a seven. It otherwise would have been a five but I will forgive you for finding the sight of me bent over that distracting.”

 

“A seven? How about a fucking nine? Admit it, Stern: I rocked your fucking world.”

 

“Darling,” Nines says, with faux sympathy as he gets up. Gavin shudders at the loss, watches as that muscled, lean body stretches to its full height. With a smirk thrown over his shoulder, Nines adds, “We can’t both be ‘Nines’.”

 

And the cocky fucker walks off to the bathroom, leaving Gavin to stare after that gorgeous ass of his.

 

It takes Gavin’s brain a moment to catch up with him. Maybe Nines did have a point: the hot asshole is distracting as fuck. “Ha ha, you’re so god damn funny, babe! A fucking riot!”

 

Glancing around the room for something to wipe himself with, Gavin opts for the silk robe Nines was wearing, blatantly ignoring the box of tissues on the bed stand: this is all Kamski’s shit anyway and part of him hopes that asshole sees it, even if this entire flat is not intended to be lived in. For all that fucker’s done, dragging Nines neck deep into his world, Gavin wants to have this moment of pettiness.

 

Pulling on his discarded boxer-briefs, Gavin takes Nines’ cigarettes and lighter and heads to the balcony. It’s a bit on the cool side for mid-June but Gavin welcomes the evening breeze, leaning against the railing as he takes in the Detroit skyline. He’s got little love for the city—has really only stuck around because of the few friends he made at the academy and, eventually, the job. He’s never seen the charm of this place, only the destitution: people on their last dime selling what little they have on the streets, dilapidated housing and a failing car industry being replaced by newer, ‘better’ things as the technological wave wipes all traces of Detroit’s grimy past.

 

But standing up here, inhaling deeply from that weird brand of cigarette Nines prefers, Gavin can see how anyone with rose-tinted glasses and a silver spoon between their lips would find the beauty in this shithole.

 

The world’s fucked up, with men like Kamski pulling the strings and driving up crime from behind the scenes. And anyone with an honest head on their shoulders either getting caught in the crossfire or drowning beneath the cost of the honest living they make while the one percent reap all the rewards.

 

Fuck assholes like Kamski.

 

He exhales, smoke curling up towards the sky in wispy tendrils. An arm slides around his waist and Gavin settles comfortably against the warm chest behind him, relinquishes the cigarette when its plucked from between his fingers. As they stand silently on the balcony, Gavin is soothed by the rise and fall of Nines’ chest, watches in quiet contemplation as smoke billows out from between Nines’ lips. He’s struck by a sudden thought and the words are out there before he can stop them.

 

“...you ever think of leaving all this shit behind?” Gavin asks, quietly.

 

He’s not quite sure what he means. Leave the job? Leave Detroit? Leave the shit that makes them meet in secret?

 

He’s only sure of what he doesn’t like: he doesn’t like Kamski having such a hold on Nines. He doesn’t like that he needs to lie through his teeth about some made up asshole named ‘Nick’ at work when Tina and Chris tease him about his love bites. He doesn’t like that who they are is the reason this shit can’t work, that all it takes is for Kamski or Connor to figure out what Nines and Gavin are up to and then it’s fucking over.

 

He doesn’t like to think about tomorrow, or the day after, or even next week. Because at some point, this shit will hit its expiration and Gavin doesn’t want it to end.

 

“Gavin,” Nines says, a melancholic waver in his voice, “you know I _can’t_.”

 

There’s something too real about Nines’ answer that has cold dread settling low in Gavin’s chest.

 

So he doesn’t say anything else, remains in Nines’ arms as they finish sharing their cigarette.

 

And Gavin doesn’t think about tomorrow.

 


End file.
